


There, But for the Grace of God, Go I

by AnonEhouse



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this AU, basically Steve Rogers' transformation goes the way Bruce Banner's did.</p><p>Ok, it's SEMI-Serious crack. Not all that serious. But I had fun with the concept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Everyone was stunned when the capsule burst open, but instead of a perfected Steve Rogers, or, as the smart money had it, a dead Steve Rogers, what emerged was huge, blood-red and very, very angry. 

"Whoa," Howard Stark said, head tilted back in awe. "Talk about exceeding design specifications."

The red giant turned to roar at him. It had Rogers' blue eyes and blond hair, and even his features, blurred with expansion and the distortion of rage. Erskine stepped forward, "Steve. Remember, you are a good..."

And then in what had to be the stupidest timing in the world, a Nazi saboteur popped up and took a shot at the big red guy. The big white star in the middle of an apparently invulnerable chest had to have been a tempting target. Erskine fell, fatal victim of a ricochet. The huge red creature chased the Nazi and smashed hell out of him in the middle of the road and then proceeded to smash several police cars, an apple cart, two fire hydrants, a tenement that fortunately was occupied only by rats, a few hundred yards of asphalt and... really, Howard stopped counting long before Peggy had the bright idea to get Steve's friend, Bucky Barnes, called in to calm the creature.

***

"Look," Bucky said earnestly to the gathered generals and other big shots. "Steve's used to listening to me. The American Guardian listens to me, too. Why not send us overseas? We'd scare the pants off the Nazis."

"And how many of our own forces? In training he flattened a TANK!"

Bucky shrugged. "Can't make an omelette without breaking eggs, sir."

Steve sat in the corner and didn't say anything until they asked him if he was willing. Then he looked up. "Yes, sir. I've always hated bullies. I'd like the chance to show them what it's like." His face started to redden, but then Bucky put a hand on his shoulder, and Steve added, quietly, "I only want to serve, any way I can."

***

The war wasn't going that great, and what else were they going to do with the American Gargoyle (no one called him that to his big red face, but that was how the newspapers and newsreels labeled him)? So Bucky rode on the American Guardian's shoulder in a harness made of tough blue leather, and guided him in battle.

And then some sharpshooter got lucky. Well, he was lucky for a moment, shooting the harness's main buckle and sending Bucky falling off the train the Guardian was clinging to just as it passed a deep, snow-covered valley. After he took apart the train and all its contents, the Guardian refused to revert to Steve until he'd caught the Red Skull, who'd escaped the carnage on the train and took over one of Lord Haw Haw's broadcasts in order to mock the Guardian as a mindless, friendless beast.

No one ever knew exactly what happened on the Red Skull's bomber. But the noises that came over the radio before the plane crashed somewhere over the arctic seemed to indicate the Red Skull wouldn't be a problem ever again.

***

Steve woke up, tired and sore and confused, the way he always was after the Other Guy had been loose. He was lying on a bed in some sort of infirmary. It was quiet and cool, and a radio was playing soft music. He listened for a while, gathering strength while a pretty nurse bustled around and he tried not to remember that Bucky was dead.

And then a baseball game came on the radio. A game he'd seen before going overseas.

***

"Happy! Stop! Right here's good."

"Mr. Stark! There's a roadblock," Happy protested. "And.." An empty taxi flew by to smash into an equally evacuated deli. "I don't think that big guy wants company."

"I just want a better look!" Tony bounced out of the limo, and took off his sunglasses. "Wow."

"Mr. Stark!"

Tony waved a hand vaguely behind him even as he passed the barricade. The police and other official types were busy shouting at each other and didn't notice him. He moved closer, using the debris as cover until he was less than a block away from the red giant. "Awesome. Dad was right, that's something every red-blooded American ought to see." He pulled out his StarkPhone and snapped a photo, zooming in on the Guardian (never the Gargoyle, Tony'd got a good smack in the face for letting that slip one day) to get a close up of his snarling face. "Say cheese, handsome," he muttered.

The Guardian turned toward him at the quiet snap of the camera. "Oh, boy," Tony said, hastily backing away. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt! Go on with the Urban Renewal, you're doing a great job there, big boy."

The Guardian dropped the traffic light he'd been twisting into a U-bend, and straightened from his crouch. His heavy brows lowered over his huge, blue eyes and he said, "Bucky?"

"Um, no. Tony. I'll just be leaving you now." Tony backed another few feet. "Or not," he said as the Guardian leaped, landing next to Tony and picking him up in one huge hand. He held Tony up in front of his face. "Not Bucky?"

"Ah. No, but hey! Don't be so disappointed! Tony Stark! Glad to meet you!" Tony held out his right hand. "Please don't squash me. The suit's Armani."

The Guardian poked one huge finger against Tony's hand. "Not Bucky. Tony." He shrugged and tucked Tony under one arm and turned to snarl at the approaching troops.

"Hey guys," Tony shouted, upside down and waving both arms. "Don't shoot! I've got everything under control!"

***

Bruce Banner liked his lab nice and quiet. So he was mildly irked when heavy rock music blasted from his pocket. He pulled out his cell phone. "Tony, I've told you not to call me at work. We have a lab play date next weekend, remember?"

"BRRRUCE! The most amazing thing has happened! You've got to come see!"

"What, Tony?" Bruce sighed and went around turning off things that might blow up if....when... Tony distracted him. He had to be careful. Being turned into the Super Scientist had its perks- it was nice not having to wear eyeglasses ever again- but he was still getting used to handling this much bigger body, and especially the much larger hands and... other things. Not that Betty complained. At all. And it was a nuisance having General Ross hounding him to either join the armed forces, or turn over his experiments with the serum. Preferably both.

Even showing him all the poor gray, green, red, and assorted other colored dead, muscle-bound mice hadn't put a damper on his enthusiasm.

"I've got the American Guardian!" There was a basso rumble and what Bruce could only classify as a 'squeak' from Tony. "Ok, well, maybe it's more of he's got me. Fifty-fifty. Anyway, until he condenses down into that cute little Steve Rogers and we can get past the 'Me Guardian, You Tony' levels of conversation there's this golden opportunity to study him!"

Bruce blinked and had to swallow a few times. "Tony. You remember my hypothesis about the underlying reason for the seemingly unpredictable results of the serum?"

"Uh huh." And then Tony giggled. "Not there, big guy, I'm ticklish. Here have some more barbecue, I'll get them to send up another cow."

"Tony. The results are very bad in anyone with an underlying history of repressed anger. Steve Rogers' father..." Bruce didn't like to think about it. Through a mistimed leave, Rogers' father hadn't been with his unit when they were mustard-gassed, and he returned home a drunkard who abused his wife and sickly boy until one day he murdered her in front of the helpless boy. That could have been Bruce, if his pregnant mother hadn't wised up, doped Brian Banner's 'pick me up' with her sleeping pills and fled while he snored. Brian had woke up in a rage, and wrapped his car around a power pole. Best thing the man ever did according to Bruce's mother, who had raised him by herself. It hadn't been easy, but he'd always felt secure and loved. He really felt for Steve Rogers. Poor guy. But Tony was his idiot genius science bro and Bruce really didn't want him squashed.

"Well, everyone gets ticked off sometimes, Brucie. But the Guardian is really very sweet."

Bruce turned to Betty and gave her a quick kiss. "Betty, please don't let your father steal the mice. I've got to go to New York to make sure Tony doesn't get himself killed."

Betty shrugged. "It's Wednesday again, isn't it?" 

"Thanks! Don't wait up." Bruce took off his lab coat and put the phone back to his ear. "Tony, do not get him angry."

"Not..." Tony giggled again. "Not going to be a problem, here."

Bruce sighed and began jogging over to his motorcycle. He hoped Tony wasn't poking the Guardian... no, strike that, do not think that. Tony... yeah, he probably was.


	2. Bruce meets Steve

Bruce showed his ID at the police barricade surrounding the Stark mansion. He was pretty sure he recognized the graffiti on the nearest one. No doubt they had a dedicated storage area nearby. The officer glanced at his ID and waved him through, looking bored. Apparently the American Guardian wasn't as exciting as the time a giant robot emerged from the basement last month, playing rock music and dancing a distorted version of West Coast Swing.

"Tony?" Bruce said as he hung his motorcycle jacket and helmet up in the vestibule. "Tony?" He didn't see any signs of disaster, or smell any explosive residue so he hadn't a clue where Tony was. He glanced up. "Jarvis, can you direct me to Tony? Or whatever's left of him." He wasn't _really_ worried. Tony didn't have any survival instinct, but he had the luck of the devil. Even the people he most annoyed generally found themselves too distracted by his amusement value to immediately kill him. He was too much fun to play with.

"Certainly Dr. Banner. Mr. Stark is in the garden with his guest."

"Uh huh." Bruce headed for the French doors nearest the garden. He opened them, letting in a swirl of barbecue smoke as he stepped outside. He followed his nose to an entire steer, basted in sauce, being rotated on a spit by two of Tony's bots. Well, not an entire steer. There were bite-shapes the size of Bruce's head. "Tony?"

"Over here, Bruce!" 

Bruce made his way cautiously over the grass, which had cow bones strewn at random, until he saw Tony sitting on a bench with one arm flung around the shoulders of a slightly built blond young man wearing Tony's favorite brocade dressing gown-- one that had belonged to his father. Bruce sighed. That was not a good sign. "Hey," Bruce called and waved.

Tony stood up and poked the young man in the ribs with a bone, making him jump. "Stop being sad, Steve. Bruce is here, it's party time!"

"Honestly, Tony!" Bruce took the bone away from him. "Stop poking the man with externally manifested anger issues."

"I don't mind," Steve said. He smiled. "It takes a lot more than that to get under my skin."

Tony looked thoughtful. Bruce sighed and sat down next to Steve. "Please, don't say anything Tony can take as a dare, or he'll spend the next week trying to figure out how to set you off."

"Would you?" Steve looked thoughtfully back at Tony. Bruce felt a quiver of nerves run down his spine. The last thing the world needed was for the American Guardian to become Tony Stark's co-conspirator.

Tony grinned back at Steve. "You have gorgeous skin. I'd love to get under it."

Steve blushed, very prettily. Tony smirked. Bruce felt like face palming. Instead he cleared his throat. "Well, Tony, while I got here too late to take readings on the American Guardian, we can start with Mr. Rogers, here, if he's acceptable." 

Steve flushed red, and his muscles twitched and began swelling.

Bruce raised his hands placatingly. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want, Steve. I just want to make sure you're all right."

Tony patted Steve on the arm. "Bruce is a good guy. He hasn't let the generals at his blood, and they want it even more than yours."

Steve's eyes sharpened, and he looked Bruce over closely. "You had the serum, too." He swallowed hard. "But it worked for you the right way, didn't it? Didn't it? What's wrong with me?" He pulled away from Tony's hand and ran several steps away before expanding into the American Guardian. Tony's father's robe fell to the ground in tatters. 

"Oh, crap," Bruce said, and put himself between Tony and the Guardian. Tony's bots were wheeping and twirling their heads, leaving the steer to singe on one side.

"Hey, hey, big guy," Tony shouted. "Wait, you can't go! I promised you ice cream, remember?"

The Guardian turned towards them. "NOT BUCKY."

"No, I'm Tony. Remember?"

"TONY." The Guardian stomped over to them and looked at Bruce warily. "YOUR TONY?"

Bruce coughed and spread his hands. "No, no, really, I'm spoken for. I have an understanding with Betty."

The Guardian's brows lowered. "MY TONY?"

Bruce looked at Tony, who was beaming. He muttered, "I know what you're thinking and it's a bad, bad idea."

"YOUR TONY!" Tony darted around Bruce and grinned up at the Guardian. "C'mon, we can share an ice cream float."

The Guardian grinned and picked Tony up. "WHERE ICE CREAM?"

"Well, there's this great shop on Fifth Avenue..." Tony got that far before the Guardian leaped into the air.

Bruce sighed.


End file.
